There aren’t many down times more down timed than “Boxing Day” in the UK, that public holiday after Christmas Day. It is the anti-climax after the big event. The lights are on, but the spirit ain’t home. And here we are, in the land that the remote forgot.
I have really welcomed Saturn going into the sign of Sagittarius, where it was at the time of my birth. That means we are approaching my second Saturn return, and I have to say, when Saturn went into the archer’s sign, I thought I felt it, and I was glad. Soul work is not a bad thing. It was as if things tightened, and clarified, ever so slightly.
Recently I have come to realize how much I am like my father, who passed on over 14 years ago. Yet at the same time I feel relieved of what was a burden, unconsciously connected with him. I recognize how I am like him, and I appreciate it, I accept it, and through that I have been able to let him go, and peel apart our stories at a deep level. So I have been relieved of things, and also many things are explained. Now I understand why, for instance, I find it so difficult to imagine myself being attractive, or why certain kinds of women and gay men react to me as they do, with inexplicable animosity. They were simply taking the opportunity to project onto someone that didn’t know he was carrying the hook. Now I know better, and as I have no regrets, I doubt that they will give as much trouble as they used to. Fuck em if they do frankly.
As for the attractiveness, well I have a husband that wants me, and that’s all I need. Some of us are just wired with a certain purpose, and popularity might not always be it!
People do not seem to appreciate fatherhood nowadays, but if anyone thinks that fatherhood is automatic second fiddle to motherhood, they really have no understanding of fatherhood at all. My father was the fire and spirit of our family, without question. He bore the traumatic wounds of the appalling way we have treated men in our world, butchered by the thousand, generation after generation. But bizarrely, having gone through such inhuman conditions, he wasn’t a psychopath, but a good man wracked with terrors. I don’t know how he put up with the bullshit my generation came out with, with our crowing politics, after he had stared the real thing right in the mouth, but he did with amazing restraint. He was proof positive that intelligence is not a product of education, because his “education” was a village priest with a cane, before working in the fields, and having his youth blotted out by war. But he was unerringly intelligent and never stopped growing.
But that was him, and I feel the effects of his psyche shedding like the old skin of a lizard from me. But I had to see how much of him I had in me, before that could happen, and be glad of it too. Before then, I was just an easy target for projections, no matter how apologetic and “aware” I tried to be. Now I am more self aware, and guess what?
I don’t care, because it is perfectly fine, nothing to regret. In fact it is more than fine. I’m glad I am who I am, and I appreciate the boy who got here too. But this is where the story picks up.
Once upon a time, the world was new ………..27th December 2014 – very minor edit 7th paragraph.